Strange And Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell On You)
by anyadoll
Summary: They've danced around each other since that dinner, unable to face what's happening between them. But there are far worse threats hiding in the dark.


A/N: I don't usually write stories this early in a show, mainly because the characters aren't fully formed and people don't care about all of them yet (or have a reason to). Generally I wait til the middle of a season. It's long and I tried to write it in almost episodic fashion, and excuse any artistic liberties. But there's just something about Jane and Weller that just screams at me, so, thus, story. The title is named after a song by Aqualung. "The After You" lyrics by Miakoda.

 **Strange and Beautiful (I'll Put A Spell On You)**

XOX

 _I'm still in it even though it's over_

 _And it feels like I don't know I got hurt_

 _For a minute I almost remember_

 _I'm still in it though I lost_

XOX

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon when the young agent hesitantly slid into the innocuous SUV, hands buried deep in her jacket pockets. She wasn't comfortable with this arrangement. Hadn't she just scolded Reade for his general lack of compliance regarding their newest team member not long ago?

She didn't dislike Jane, and for the most part, she was on board with the strange woman joining the team. Jane was a valuable asset. As for Reade, he didn't owe his damn bookie forty grand.

Tasha Zapata was right after all. Carter would exploit their weakest link. It just happened to be her.

Just like her gambling addiction, she told herself she could quit at anytime. One last bet, one more game, one good piece of information on Jane. She wouldn't need to do this forever.

But as she turned to Carter, sitting next to her in the back seat, a devious smile on his face, she knew she was already in too deep. There was no turning back. He had her. And just like she'd lied about her own gambling problem, she had lied to herself about this, too.

There was no escape from this.

Carter dropped the manila envelope of cash next to her.

"So…what do you have for me today?"

XOX

She had a massive headache. It drummed inside her mind, banging around with the revelations she'd had of late. So many faces—of children, of men, of places she didn't recognize but knew she'd been before. She couldn't escape the onslaught of memories. Hell, she didn't even know what she was escaping in the first place.

"Oh, hey Jane!" Patterson chirped, jarring her out of the darkness. Perhaps she shouldn't mull over forgotten fragments of her past in the break room.

"Um, hi. I was just…" she trailed off. But Patterson was already pulling a mug off a shelf, humming to herself and pouring coffee into the bright yellow cup. Jane smiled. Patterson was probably the only person who didn't see her as just a tattooed, possibly traitorous, liability. She'd welcomed her with open arms and a mounting curiosity that could be described as endearing—or very off putting depending on the situation. There was nothing malicious about her intent, and Jane appreciated that.

"Coffee?" Patterson asked, holding out the happy yellow mug.

"Uh, sure," Jane responded, taking the mug on autopilot. She'd already had a cup on the way from the safe house, an olive branch of sorts at Weller's insistence. He handled her with kid gloves since the dinner with Sarah. He tried not to pressure her after that, promised to back off if she needed him to as she told him he was her starting point. The awkwardness that followed after a byproduct of that evening, when the realization that she wanted more struck her hard and fast as she held his hand over her heart, and it hadn't subsided.

But he pulled away. Left her standing in the safe house, alone.

The truth was Jane didn't know what she wanted. Perhaps what she felt for him in that moment was a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. She'd been told she was his childhood best friend so many times it took root, it became truth, and their natural closeness morphed into a very adult reaction. She felt…silly, now, in the daylight.

As much as she wished to be Taylor for him, she didn't believe she was the lost girl. She could pretend, sure. Clearly she looked like the missing child, the same eyes and scar and age, according to Kurt, but that didn't make her Taylor.

What she wanted to tell him more than anything was that she resented Taylor Shaw. Kurt and Taylor shared a past, a life, however short-lived it was. He remembered her in a visceral, almost damning way. He deified the child her, and Jane knew she couldn't live up to those standards.

Nothing would bring that little girl back.

"Jane…Jane," Patterson repeated, eyebrows raised. "Earth to Janeeee."

Jane's eyes snapped up to Patterson's. "Yes, what?"

"Are you okay? And don't say yes, because you're definitely not."

Jane tilted her head to the side, confused. "Then why did you ask?"

"It's rhetorical," Patterson supplied, waving a hand dismissively. "And I'm guessing you don't want to talk about it do you?"

"Um, no, not really. I don't even want to think about it much less talk about it," Jane replied, the last bit more to herself.

"Well, I'm here if you do," the bubbly analyst said, shrugging as she turned to leave.

"Hey, Patterson," Jane called back.

The blonde paused in the doorway. "Yeah?"

"Thank you, for…just…thanks," Jane answered her clumsily, unable to form the right words.

"Anytime. You know where my office is."

Jane nodded as she left, leaving her alone with her thoughts again. She sighed, adding sugar to her second cup of coffee, needing the caffeine after all.

Kurt walked into the break room with Reade on his heels, laughing about something he'd witnessed on the street earlier in the morning. Reade tacitly ignored her, which didn't bother Jane as much as it had before—he was probably right to be suspicious of her.

 _Frankly_ , she thought, _Weller trusts me too much and Reade doesn't trust me enough_.

The dichotomy was evident. Reade was his second in command, and Jane's presence disrupted that rapport.

Kurt glanced at her, their eyes locking in one of their ridiculous _looks_ that sent a sharp shiver down her spine. Reade is still recounting his story with absurd gesticulation, unaware of their unspoken conversation. She nods slightly, breaking the connection and hurrying out of the small room as her cheeks flush pink.

As she hides near a lonely copy machine, she realizes there is at least one thing she wants in a completely selfish, undeserving way.

No matter who she really is, she wants him to never stop looking at her like _that_.

XOX

Zapata cleared her throat, trying to keep her hands still as they itched to take the money and run. "They're close."

"Close to what? Figuring this whole…puzzle out," Carter demanded, clearly agitated. Perhaps Mayfair wasn't letting on everything this girl, Jane, knew.

"No," she replied with a quick shake of her head, realizing he misunderstood her. "Weller and Jane…they're…close."

"Oh… _oh._ "

Zapata winced as the oily smile spread, wider this time. She could visibly see the wheels turning in the man's head.

"How close, exactly?"

XOX

"You're late," Reade commented, shaking his head as Zapata rushed to her locker. The conversation went longer than she expected, and traffic was a bitch. "You've already missed like, three smoldering looks between Weller and Jane and I had no one to share it with. Do you even know what that's like? I feel…dirty."

Zapata rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Please, so it gave you high school flashbacks of your lonely, geek days, mooning over the cheerleader and your fragile psyche couldn't handle your feelings of inadequacy. How is that my problem? More importantly, that you noticed these smoldering looks is just a little creepy. You're not watching The O.C. again are you?"

She slammed her locker, a smirk set on her lips and a knowing look on her face as she brushed past him.

"One time, that was _one time_!" Reade called after her, glancing around to make sure no one else heard their exchange. He huffed, straightening his tie and heading over to see what crisis they would be averting today.

XOX

"Patterson, why don't you share what you found?" Mayfair announced, shooting a look at Zapata and Reade as they quietly slipped into the room.

Reade nudged Zapata, nodding at the distance Weller had put between himself and Jane. They'd both been acting strange since the 'dinner' they'd shared a couple weeks ago. Weller claimed he was keeping her at a professional distance, but the five of them, at the very least, knew that was crap. Zapata shook her head. Did they really think they were being subtle?

"Okay, so, you guys know by now that Jane's tattoos are constantly being filtered through my expertly designed system to see what events they could possibly correlate with," Patterson began, pausing for effect. When she received no response aside from silence and crickets she turned back to the screen. "Tough crowd. Anyway, it looks like we got a hit. One of the tattoos tracks to a charity here in New York, and tomorrow night there's a gala being held for the donors. This charity delivers aid oversees, to storm ravaged countries, places suffering from war, and so on; it's basically a tax write off for the wealthy but they at least do some good. The head of the organization is Maia Atwater, old money, powerful family—she's been getting death threats since she started the charity but as of this morning, she received this," Patterson clicked her computer keys, bringing up a photo.

Everyone recoiled. "A…tongue?" Jane quietly observed. "Why?"

"More importantly, whose tongue is it?" Weller queried.

"Not sure yet, but looking over Ms. Atwater's staff, one employee is missing. An Amir Rosen. He hasn't been there long, looks like…a little more than 2 months."

Reade sighed. "So, other than a mystery tongue and the charity's logo tattooed on Jane's—"

"—Foot," Patterson piped up.

"Uh, foot, what are we looking at here?"

Kurt stood. "Won't know til we ask."

XOX

Maia Atwater was as prim and proper as they came. She was gorgeous to be sure, her red hair was twisted into a low chignon, and her stylish navy blue pantsuit was perfectly pressed. Somehow it all looked staged—at least to Jane it did. Reade and Zapata were questioning the organization's employees while Jane and Kurt interviewed Maia.

"Ms. Atwater, do you know of any reason why someone would send you a tongue?" Kurt asked, seated across from the desk Maia vigorously flipped through files at. Jane felt uneasy, unable to sit so close Kurt. She walked the room instead, paying attention to small artifacts that littered shelves and photos hung on the wall.

"I'd imagine it's because of the work we do. Aiding the Middle East isn't something people are always…fond of. Originally we aided countries hit by devastating storms, but branched out to war torn countries as well. Not everyone took kindly to that idea."

"Can you tell me about Amir Rosen?"

Jane tuned out the conversation, green eyes falling across a set of pictures placed strategically on the wall. Africa, Pakistan, Japan, and pictures of Maia with children from foreign lands. She reached out to touch the frame.

Maia glanced up. "Could you please not touch anything?" Jane pulled her hand back as if it had been burned.

"The pictures…they're tragic…but also…"

"Beautiful? Yes, they are. We make a difference here," Maia looked Jane up and down, scrutinizing her appearance, before turning her attention back to Kurt. "Look, I get it, given what's happened and the fact that I have a missing employee, you want me to cancel my gala. But that's not going to happen. We rely on the good press and funding."

"We wouldn't ask you to do that Ms. Atwater. But we're hoping you'll at least increase your security for the event. You have powerful names on that list of donors."

Jane finally moved to take the chair next to Weller's, pulling the sleeves of her sweat jacket down to cover her arms. The motion didn't go unnoticed by Kurt, but Maia's curious stare was making her uncomfortable.

"Agent…Weller, was it? _I_ am a powerful name. Threats come with the territory," she smiled, a little too sweetly for Jane's taste. "But if you're so intent on securing my safety, I could use an escort? Your team can certainly attend as well. I know I'd feel safer."

"We'll take that into consideration Ms. Atwater," Kurt replied, rather obliviously. Jane held back the urge to roll her eyes.

"Maia, please, and this is my card." Maia opened a slim silver case, pulling a business card out and offering it to Weller. "And the gala, it's black tie."

XOX

As the pair left Maia Atwater's office, Kurt reached out to grasp Jane's arm. Normally she would take refuge in the comfort it offered, but right now, she was feeling uncomfortable in her own skin. She reflexively shifted away from the hand, tried to ignore the brief flash of hurt in his eyes.

"Jane…you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I just don't appreciate being scolded like a child by a woman my own age," Jane snapped.

"You pulled your sleeves down, covered your arms. I think it's about more than being scolded. What did I miss?" He tried again.

Jane shook her head. "You know what, Agent Weller? You can't solve every single one of my problems. I don't always need you to fight my battles. I just…what I…I need you to leave me alone right now," she answered witheringly, walking down the stairs and out to the van.

She'd taken to calling him Kurt more often than not; bouncing back to Agent Weller stung. He'd pushed too hard, again.

"Jane okay?" Zapata asked, approaching Weller with Reade in tow.

"She just…needs some time. And we have a party to go to."

Zapata raised an eyebrow, while Reade groaned.

XOX

As soon as they arrived back at the FBI, Jane departed, desperate for space. She had a pair of agents take her to the new safe house she was staying at, ignoring the questioning stares of the team.

Unfortunately, the safe house was…boring, to say the least. As much as she regretted returning to it early, she couldn't bring herself to go back to work right now.

 _What was wrong with her?_

Had the red-haired woman's stare put her that on edge?

Jane peeled off the sweat jacket and her tank, trailing her fingertips over the intricate, raised illustrations.

The answer was yes, the way she'd looked at her, dissecting and analyzing and probably trying to pinpoint _why she'd done that to herself_ hurt to say the least. Because Maia Atwater's perfect, alabaster skin wasn't covered in horrific tattoos that heralded future events and probably the end of everything. Maia Atwater was pretty, wealthy, and knew who she was. She didn't have a fractured past.

Worst of all, Maia Atwater had all but thrown herself at her—what, exactly? Her friend, partner, colleague, as she critiqued Jane. That was the first time she'd felt inferior to someone since she'd woken up in a bag in Times Square.

She didn't like it, not at all.

XOX

The next day wasn't much better.

Kurt and Jane walked on eggshells around each other, effectively driving Reade insane and pushing Mayfair's buttons. Patterson and Zapata did their best to diffuse the situation, but weren't having a whole lot of luck.

Mayfair pulled them into her office, fed up with the tension that hung between them. "Look, I don't know what's going on and I don't want to. A man is missing, there's an unknown tongue in our lab, and this gala is being held by a very influential woman who needs our protection. Get over it, whatever it is."

Mayfair sat back, eyeing them both. "Weller, leave. Jane, stay."

Kurt opened his mouth in protest. Mayfair shot him a glare, so he stood wordlessly, closing the door in frustration behind him.

"You alright?" Mayfair asked, her voice taking on a softer tone.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

The older woman smiled. "You have Seal training, can speak multiple languages, and are very effective with a gun—but despite that, you're a terrible liar. Something happened with Maia Atwater," she observed, rather astutely.

Jane looked away. "It's silly…really. It's just the way she, she looked at me. No one's looked at me like that. Like I'm…"

"Different?" Mayfair supplied gently.

Jane gave her a small nod. Other words came to mind. "Something like that."

"You're a strong, powerful woman with a world of information on her body. You help people, you've saved this city already. Don't let some bored, rich society woman make you feel like you're less."

Jane's lips twitched into a half-smiled. "Okay."

"You'll need a dress for this gala, why don't you take the day. We'll bring you in if we need to, but you should get out, enjoy what the city has to offer that's not a view from a safe house."

"I wouldn't even know where to start," Jane admitted. "It's pretty much been cheap tank tops and a few pairs of jeans for me. Pretty sure I'd get lost."

"I think I have a solution."

XOX

"Hey, Jane, ready to go?" Patterson smiled widely, gesturing to the door. "It's not often I get paid to shop…or ever, really…so I'd like to enjoy it while it lasts."

"Yeah, sure," Jane smiled back. Her happiness was infectious after all.

"Okay, where do you want to start?"

Jane shrugged. "I don't know. I can't remember shopping."

"Now _that_ is a travesty. Shopping should be…refreshing. It should soothe your soul and make you feel good. Don't worry, we'll get you some…real clothes."

"Lead the way."

XOX

Shopping may have been refreshing for Patterson, but it was…overwhelming for her, to say the least. Patterson and the sales associates were helpful, but not a lot of the ensembles they tried to force on her appealed to her taste. Eschewing anything with floral, polka dots, or animal prints of any kind, she found she liked stripes and dark colors—not so surprising, according to Patterson. Her wardrobe consisted now of loose t-shirts, airy tanks, sharply cut utilitarian jackets, more quality jeans, a vast array of boots, and two plain but elegant dresses— _just in case_.

Patterson called her style "classic-with-a-side-of-rock." Jane had shrugged, not really understanding anything Patterson said.

Armed with shopping bags of all shapes and sizes, the lively blonde came to a sudden halt as they were leaving the hundredth store, Jane nearly running into her. "We need to get you a dress for the gala, how could I forget!"

"It's okay, I don't really think I want to go to this…party," Jane mumbled.

"Ugh, no, we're getting you a _killer_ dress." She grabbed Jane's hand, inspecting her nervously bitten nails. "And a manicure."

XOX

"Just come out, let me see!" Patterson whined, sipping her mocha Frappuccino, surrounded by colorful, discarded ball gowns. Everything Jane had tried was either too shiny, too bright, or too revealing.

"Fine, but you can't laugh," Jane called.

"I promise I won't…again," she responded.

Jane rolled her eyes, studying the way the dress fit her. It was a deep, dark emerald green, soft, silky, and flowed like water through her fingers. It was modest, but clung to her curves. The sleeves were long and the neckline was wide, just barely off the shoulder. Patterson had purchased her makeup—a ridiculous battle in its own right—along with a thick, skin tone cream that would cover her visible tattoos. She counted to three in her head, opening the door that separated her from her friend.

Patterson stood suddenly, eyes wide. "Oh my gosh, this…this is perfect! Jane, you look…wow! I can definitely work with this," she winked. "Weller won't have a clue what hit him when I'm done with you."

Jane knit her forehead, suddenly very wary. "When you're done with me?"

"Don't you worry about that, let's pay for this. You only have like, six hours to get ready and we need every minute!"

XOX

Jane had to admit it was nice to have more than just a few tank tops in shades of gray and white to put in the sad looking safe house closet, and their shopping excursion, while unnecessary, had been fun. She hadn't really experienced anything fun yet. Now she sat, content, as Patterson hopped and bobbed around the apartment like an over-caffeinated bunny, a swipe of mascara here, a twist of hair there—and she wasn't allowed to see her reflection until she was finished.

"So…did you want to talk about it?" The blonde analyst asked as she pulled at Jane's hair.

"Talk about what?" Jane feigned ignorance.

"You…and Weller. Something's going on there. At least, that's what I see. I won't say anything, you know. Girl code and all."

"I'm not her, am I," Jane stated bluntly. Patterson's hesitance confirmed it.

"We can't be sure, the evidence, it says two different things."

"It's okay—I'm okay. But Kurt…he wants me to be her, so badly. I wish I could be, just so…"

"Just so…he keeps looking at you like you matter?" Patterson finished.

"Yeah, maybe," Jane whispered in agreement.

"You matter, to him. You've become more than just a puzzle, more than what's tattooed on your skin. Don't sell yourself short."

Jane grasped Patterson's hand as it rest on her shoulder. "Thank you, for treating me like a person. That's what I wanted to say yesterday."

"No problem, we weirdo's have to stick together," she said, reaching for a small box in the myriad of bags. "I wasn't sure if you had pierced ears or not, but upon closer inspection you do, so, put these in."

Jane took the velvet box, flipping open the lid, sucking in a breath. "These aren't from the store, are they?" she observed. "Where are they from?"

"Nope…and I was sworn to secrecy." Patterson smirked. "Your date should be here any minute."

"Date? I don't understand."

"Put them in, they're perfect with this dress."

Jane hesitated. It was all too much. She picked at the glossy black manicure, trying to absorb everything. Patterson swatted her hand, lamenting about chipped polish and poor cuticles, but she barely heard her. A knock sounded at her door.

"I'll get that. You, put the earrings in, then take a look. You're absolutely stunning," Patterson said softly, leaving her alone in her room.

They were beautiful, the earrings. Simple. Thin gold bars, half the length of her pinky set with small diamonds in a pristine column. She slipped them out of the comfort of their velvet home, touching them to make sure they were in place. She stood and toyed with her dress, anxiety coursing through her in anticipation of facing the mirror Patterson had thrown a sheet over.

 _Now or never._

She pulled the sheet away swiftly and froze. It didn't even look like the same girl who'd been afraid she was some kind of freak. This woman was someone unrecognizable. Patterson had covered every inch of visible tattoo that the dress did not—as if they were never there. Her makeup was dark and smoky, highlighting her eyes and Patterson's hands had managed to work her unruly black locks into an updo fastened with a slim gold comb.

Jane swallowed thickly as a figure appeared in her doorway.

"Wow," Kurt managed, breathless. Jane faced him, fighting the urge to sink back into herself. Her cheeks were pink again, and not from the blush Patterson had used. "I…um…you're beautiful, Jane."

"You look…nice, too. Hopefully I don't turn into a pumpkin at midnight," she laughed. "Patterson was explaining Cinderella to me."

"I don't think you could ever be a pumpkin, Jane," Kurt replied gently. "These are for you," he shrugged, holding out a rather absurd bouquet of flowers. They had no rhyme or reason to their arrangement—there seemed to be only one of each kind of flower wrapped in the paper. "Didn't know what you liked, or if you even like flowers. Pretty sure the florist thinks I'm insane. Not too many guys walk into a flower shop and ask for one of every flower."

"That's incredibly…sweet…and also…odd," Jane grinned. The various scents assaulted her nose. She'd have to smell each one individually later, when she was able to get a better look at her options. "Thank you. I'll let you know which one I like."

"That would be appreciated," he laughed. "I figured you could use a little color in here." She seemed lighter now, free of something.

Jane reached up, playing with one of the earrings nervously. Kurt moved to comment, but thought better of it. It wasn't anything she was ready to hear, not yet. "I'll put those in water, you should put this in your ear," he said, handing her the clear ear bud.

"Right, yes, the gala." She'd nearly forgotten they actually had somewhere to be, that this wasn't for fun.

XOX

The drive was spent in comfortable silence. Out of the corner of her eye, Jane caught Kurt stealing glances at her more than he watched the road.

"You can look at me all you want when we get there, you know," she said quietly. "Hopefully in one piece."

The car swerved as he realized he'd been caught. It would probably never happen again, and she was sure if she told anyone he'd deny it, but she watched him blush under the glow of the passing streetlights.

"It's distracting," he responded.

"What is?"

He risked one last quick glance. "You."

She gaped for a moment, unsure of what to say.

"We're here," he nodded toward the brightly lit building and the preposterous amount of limos surrounding it.

XOX

Reade and Zapata were waiting for them in the entryway, looking over the guest list.

"Hey—wow, Jane, who knew?" Zapata smiled genuinely. Kurt gave her a warning look, just in case either of his agents tried to say anything untoward. "Don't worry, you look good too Weller. You're a matching set," the agent said, sizing them up.

"Thank you," Jane replied. "You look beautiful too."

"Just don't stand too close to me, I don't want to be outshined by the New Girl in that dress."

Jane wanted to laugh, but she wasn't entirely sure if Zapata was kidding. Reade looked between his boss and Jane, trying to form something polite to say, she assumed.

"You look…good."

Jane threw him a small smile. She supposed that was the best she was going to get from someone who actively ignored her.

"So, where are we at?" Kurt questioned his team. Reade barely managed to get two words out before their host appeared.

"Wonderful, you made it!" the syrupy voice of Maia Atwater called out as she approached the four—well, three—agents. "I was beginning to think you'd no-show."

"Not a chance Ms. Atwater, we're here to work," Kurt answered briskly.

Maia gave him a coy look. "And play, a little."

Reade and Zapata raised equally high eyebrows at the woman's forwardness. Jane felt her hands flex into fists, but the sudden weight of Kurt's palm on the small of her back and the strange tingling that accompanied it brought her back.

"Why don't I walk you through where security is stationed Agent Weller?" Maia smiled, linking her arm through his.

"Okay. Reade, walk the perimeter. Zapata, you'll continue with the guest list. Jane—"

"I'll walk the ball room, see if anyone stands out," she finished for him, making her way through the doorway before he could say anything more.

As Maia pulled Kurt along, Reade turned to Zapata. "Twenty bucks on red."

"What are we betting on exactly?" Zapata questioned.

"Who wins the catfight," Reade replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Double or nothing Jane takes her out in the next half hour."

"Deal."

XOX

"Your girlfriend, what's her story?" Maia asked innocently. "Strange to have tattoos covering a girl that pretty. Seems a bit…unorthodox."

"Nothing wrong with tattoos. I have several," Kurt replied stiffly, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just curious—she could have been a model with her looks. Seems a pity. If only we all had someone so understanding of our choices I suppose," Maia egged on, saying so much more than she was letting on.

"It's too bad you don't then," he commented, a bit harsher than intended. Her lovely smile faltered. "What's your interest in her? Or me, for that matter?"

Her pretenses began slipping away. "I think you have an idea, Agent Weller. My organization's logo was found on the side of your mystery girl's foot. Before you throw yourself into a tizzy about how I know that, remember what my last name is, and choose your words very wisely.

Atwater. It hit him like a ton of bricks. How stupid could he be not to have seen it?

"Your mother is Cecelia Pierce, she didn't take your father's last name til she quit—she's a former FBI director."

"And she's very good friends with Bethany Mayfair…your boss, right? You know who else my mother is particularly in good graces with? Thomas Carter."

Kurt froze. Putting the pieces together. "There was no threat, was there. You set this whole thing up, your missing employee—"

"Amir Rosen is missing. You did find part of him. He overheard us, couldn't have that," she spoke carefully, gauging his reaction. Maia moved, holding out her wrists expectantly.

"What 'us'," Kurt demanded, ice in his tone.

"Why ask, you already know."

He pressed his hand to the ear bud, nearly falling over himself as he took off at a dead sprint. "Reade, Zapata, it's Jane—Jane's the target!"

XOX

For all the magic and beauty of the party, with its crystal chandeliers and expensive champagne, Jane found it rather dull. No one stood out as a threat in their Prada suits and Chanel gowns. Kurt's absence was making her edgy though, as she observed the crowd from her place against the wall.

"You didn't strike me as a wallflower."

Jane felt herself go cold at the familiar voice.

"You're also a very difficult woman to have a conversation with."

"What do you want with me?" Jane snapped, mapping exit strategies.

"I want to have a chat. Here," Carter grabbed two champagne flutes off a tray. "Let's have a drink." She took the glass reflexively, but didn't drink it.

"A few weeks ago you were bartering me to Mayfair like a farm animal. Why would I want to talk to you?"

"Because you don't have a choice." She felt the cool gun barrel press against her side. "That's a beautiful dress, it would be a shame to ruin it. Let's go talk, privately."

They weaved through the crowd, unnoticed by the half drunk patrons. "You want to kill me," Jane said plainly.

"You're observant. Depends on what you know."

"Nothing. There, I just saved you a lot of time and a bullet," Jane retorted, climbing the stairs.

"That's not entirely true though, is it. I prefer to be sure, and I won't be taking your word as gospel. You can teach someone to lie," Carter pointed out.

Carter pushed her into an empty office off the third floor. The party couldn't be heard from here, and she couldn't figure out whether that was a good thing or a bad one.

His eyes roved over her, making her feel even more uncomfortable.

"That's a neat trick, covering your tattoos. You could almost be normal—that what you were trying to achieve?" He berated. Her lip raised in contempt.

"What does it matter to you?"

"It doesn't. Just says a lot about your character," He grinned, making her grimace. He shrugged. "Well, now that we've gotten pleasantries out of the way. Here, inject yourself with this," Carter commanded, handing her a clear box with a syringe inside. She scowled at him.

"No."

"You know, I'm not the only CIA agent here. Nor am I the only one with questions as to how much you actually know. Come now, bottoms up, or I'll make sure Kurt Weller dies in a friendly fire accident downstairs."

Her green eyes went wide before she could school her features. He had her and he knew it. Jane met his stony gaze, taking the syringe form its case and pushing the needle into her arm. She winced at the pinch.

"Thought that would change your mind." Jane slammed the empty syringe down angrily. "Shouldn't let yourself get so attached."

"What's in the syringe?"

"Sodium Pentothal. Why don't you have seat, Miss Doe. You'll feel a little intoxicated, like you've had too much champagne," he glanced at his watch. "We don't have a lot of time, I suspect Maia already spilled the beans, so let's get started."

XOX

"What is it that you remember so far?" Carter asked, sipping his glass of champagne in the seat across from her.

Jane looked around, confused. "I'm shooting…at…targets…in the woods. Little girl…being taken…mattresses…a boy with a scar on his face. A stairway and rough knuckles," she slurred, the pieces feeling disjointed.

"Who gave you the tattoos? Took away your memory?"

"Not…sure."

"Who left you in Times Square?"

"Don't know."

"What do you know about Daylight?"

Jane tilted her head to the side, feeling dizzy and heavy. "It's sunny," she whispered, laughing a little at the absurdity of the question.

"Who are you to Kurt Weller?"

Her face fell. "I don't…know."

Carter sighed. They'd been at this for fifteen minutes. She really didn't know anything.

"This chat of ours has been enlightening. You really are useless, at least for now," He said brightly, tipping her chin up with the end of the gun, forcing her to meet his gaze. "When you do become useful, we'll have another conversation. Watch your back, Jane. I'll be waiting for that day."

She felt another pinch in her arm, before everything went black.

XOX

"Do you see her? Does anyone have a visual on Jane?" Weller demanded wildly. Zapata had rounded up Maia Atwater, who was complacently waiting in the car. Reade was searching the ballroom, scanning for anyone familiar.

"I don't see her down here Weller, she's gotta be in the building though. I'll take the second floor, you take the third," Reade said firmly, doing his best to keep his boss on track. "We'll find her."

It wasn't a matter of when they'd find her, but how. Thomas Carter was dirty, that much he knew. He'd tried to bargain Jane for Dodi once already. Who knew what Carter was actually capable of.

"Alright, I'll go up," Kurt agreed, taking the stairs two at a time. He opened each door, cleared each room, heart sinking the farther he got. He was tired, worried, and most of all, angry. She'd been taken on his watch, again. He'd failed her twice.

He twisted the knob on the second to last door, his hope waning.

There she was. He gasped, pushing forward. She sat slumped in a chair, head lolled to the side. Kurt dropped to his knees in front of her, palming her head while he moved two fingers to her neck. Her pulse was slow but steady.

The breath he'd been holding came out violently, a half sob. He pulled out his cell phone, calling an ambulance and Mayfair.

"Kurt?" she whispered sluggishly. Nothing focused, it was all blurry and wrong.

"I'm right here, I'm right here," he answered softly, pushing her fallen hair away from her face. Her grip was weak, but she clenched his hands on her face like a lifeline. Her eyes moved over him unsteadily, searching. "What's wrong?"

"He…he would have…killed you," she stuttered, her lip trembling as the tears streamed down her face. He pulled her to him tightly, never wanting to let go. He couldn't protect her from all the evils of the world, no matter how hard he tried.

"C'mon, let's get you out of here. Paramedics are gonna check you out," Kurt soothed as she nodded against him. With her arms still locked around his neck, he moved his own to cradle her back and under her knees, sweeping her up.

The red and blue lights flickered starkly in the dark night. Reade directed the paramedics to Weller when he emerged from the building, Jane in his arms. He hesitated to leave her when the medics began examining her, but Mayfair was on site, on a warpath as much as Kurt was.

Reade and Zapata glanced at each other, knowing they were missing vital information.

"Cecelia Pierce. Remember her," Kurt snapped, fists shaking by his side. "Maia Atwater is her daughter. Guess who their mutual friend happens to be, other than you?"

He saw the light in her eyes. "Carter."

"They ran us in circles, they planned this—timed it perfectly. Did you know? Were you, were you in on this?"

"Tread carefully, Agent Weller," Mayfair said darkly. "I do not tango with the CIA. Carter didn't even cross my mind, and the Atwater's and I have not spoken in years."

Kurt felt the adrenaline from earlier draining out of him. "He did something to her, drugged her."

Mayfair put a hand on his arm, but it wasn't comforting. "Take her home. Stay with her and make sure she's okay. Take tomorrow off—she'll need it. She's been through enough. I'll deal with Ms. Atwater, and her mother if I have too."

All he could do was nod, running a hand through his hair as he made his way back to the ambulance. They let him take her home, under supervisory care. The drug in her system they could only determine was some sort of date rape drug, but Weller knew that couldn't be right, even if the effects she was experiencing mimicked those.

She slept on the way home, exhausted.

He nodded a greeting to the agents posted outside as he helped her inside the safe house.

Jane sat down on the couch, her head spinning. Her dress would need to be dry-cleaned. Patterson would be upset she chipped her manicure, she thought, staring blankly at her trembling fingers.

"Here, drink some water, Jane," Kurt said softly, placing the cup in her hand.

"Some party," she laughed, but it was hollow. Her makeup ran down her face, the tattoo cover up Patterson had so tediously applied had worn off, and her hair was in disarray.

"You could say that," Kurt replied roughly. He wanted to hit something. Particularly Carter.

"Sodium Pentothal," Jane said, squinting as if to remember. "That's…that's what was in the syringe. He wanted to know…what I knew."

"Truth serum?" he nearly laughed. No wonder she looked like she drank half the bar. "You don't know anything."

She shot him a withering look. "Because the CIA was going to believe me?" she spat sarcastically. Kurt flinched, and she sighed. "Sorry, I'm…sorry. It's not your fault."

 _It's not your fault._

 _You haven't heard it from me._

"But it was. At least this time, it was. I shouldn't have left you alone," he berated himself. "I promised myself I would never let that happen again…and I failed."

"Couldn't have known that Maia Atwater was scheming with Thomas Carter. She was a pretty woman who needed your help. You can't blame yourself for every little thing that happens to me."

He sighed heavily, loosening the collar of his disheveled shirt and pulling his tie off, tossing it on the coffee table.

"Movie?" he asked, not particularly invested in her answer. Jane shook her head.

She needed to talk to him, but that was the hard part.

Kurt narrowed his eyes. Her body language was stiff, overly formal and uneasy. He grabbed his phone, searching. Jane jumped, startled, when the slow music started playing. He sat up straight, offering her his right hand.

"What are you doing?"

"Dance with me? You're already dressed for the occasion," Kurt asked gently. She nodded, entwining her hand with his. She wasn't even sure if she knew how to dance, but fell into the rhythm easier than she expected. His left arm wound around her slim waist, bringing her flush against him as they swayed.

"Dancing is…nice," Jane commented casually. Her contentment had less to do with dancing and more to do with her partner, but she wasn't about to tell him that.

He seemed distracted, worrying himself about her imminent safety she was sure.

"Kurt, I can take care of myself. I'm well equipped. It just…happened. He had a gun, he had the upper hand, and he didn't get anything useful. I'm not of any use to him."

 _At least, not yet._ She thought bitterly.

"It's not that easy for me. I…I lost you once. Twice is…"

He smiled, pulling back to grasp one of the earrings that still dangled delicately from her ear. His thumb brushed along her jaw, lost in thought. "My mom left my dad, when everything…happened. She couldn't take it, all the accusations. More than just the community imploded. Our lives imploded. He'd lied, and it just spiraled from there. All I had left was Sarah, and the ghost of you.

"Emma…your—Taylor's mom—she didn't have much. Except for these. You loved these, she was always furious when you'd wear them to play dress-up with Sarah." His face fell. "She knew I'd joined the FBI, knew why. The day she died these showed up on my doorstep. I think she hoped you'd come back one day."

His grip on her waist was so tight she could barely breathe, her dress bunched in his fist, anchoring him.

"Kurt…what if I'm not her."

He looked at her, resolutely. "You're her, Jane."

"I know you think that, and you want it to be true so desperately." She closed her eyes, her hands resting on his chest. He was making this impossibly hard. "But if I'm not…If I'm not her, not Taylor, I need you to answer something for me."

His pale blue eyes searched her green ones, searched for an answer, for a fragment of hope she couldn't give him.

"If I'm not her…if you never find her, if I never find out about me…would you still look at me the way you are right now?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking over his answer carefully. "I think I've been looking at you _like this_ since I saw you sitting in a chair in a hospital gown, being prodded by doctors and agents. Before I'd even thought you could be Taylor."

"That's not an answer," she whispered sadly.

He swallowed hard, knowing he could have lost her today, again. And that was something that couldn't happen. Even if she wasn't his Taylor, she'd become so much to him in such a small amount of time that the idea of her disappearing—of no longer being a part of his life—destroyed him.

"Yes, I would. I don't know how to look at you any other way, Jane. Even if you're not her…I've never felt _this_ before. I never thought I would. It's all consuming and…and I never want it to go away," he answered her.

Jane smiled. "Thank you…for telling me."

This time, when her doe eyes flickered to his lips, he didn't pull back.

XOX

"Well, this is becoming a bit cloak and dagger, don't you think?" Carter said, sipping the expensive scotch he'd ordered as he sat back in the plush red armchair. "Have a seat, join me."

Bethany Mayfair sat ramrod straight, glaring at him. "You and I have a very fragile understanding, which you seem intent on violating," she seethed. "You went after my agent,"

"Oh, so she's an agent now? I thought Quantico lasted at least nine months!" he laughed. "Please, Beth, she's a civilian with a gun—that's called the second amendment. What is this really about?"

"I explicitly told you to leave her alone, I'm building trust. How dare you go after her—she doesn't know anything!"

Carter searched the woman's eyes with a burning curiosity. "No, she doesn't. At least, not yet. Why do you think Agent Weller found her alive?"

"What's your endgame, Tom? Wait it out until some memory of hers magically floats into her conscious? Considering the only memories she seems to retain are of what we assume is her being taken as a child and shooting a few targets in the woods, I doubt she's incredibly suspect for the time being." Mayfair crossed her arms, a sneer on her face.

"On the contrary—she's fascinating. According to your doctor's notes, the amount of this drug in her system should render her a blank slate," He observed, leaning forward. "Yet, when she's around this…Agent Weller, seems like things get—jogged—in that very lovely empty head of hers. His name is stamped on her back, after all, and that, that does something to a person. It's personal, on a whole other level. I think…I think I'll watch how this little fairytale you've stumbled into plays out."

Mayfair stood, her back to him. "Come after them again. It won't be a fairytale you stumble into."

"Empty threats, Beth," Carter said, swirling the amber liquid in its glass. "Whatever spell this girl cast on you will only ruin you. Remember who the villain is in this story."

XOX

Dawn came swiftly, casting shades of orange, pink, and yellow across the woman sleeping soundly in the bed. Her partner quietly watched over his sleeping friend, unwilling to close his eyes, to find her gone in the morning light.

Her dress was a horribly wrinkled version of its former self now, and his suit would need some serious dry-cleaning, but it was worth it. To be here, with her, _like this_. He gently pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear, mesmerized by this woman—his dearest friend. Even if she didn't believe it, he knew it was true. Too many things in his life had gone bad for her not be real. His bright spot in a world of dark.

There was so much more he wanted to say to her, but these things were too much too soon, and it wouldn't be fair. He'd put enough pressure on her already weighted shoulders.

He'd crossed enough lines in the past few hours as it was.

Their kiss had gone from tentative to passionate in mere seconds. It was soft, at first. Shy, almost awkward, like they'd known each other forever and had decided to take that step out of their respective comfort zones. But when Jane had pulled back to gauge his interest, any resolve he'd had shattered. Her lively green eyes had turned dark and clouded, her lips red and parted and the combination had him truly _seeing_ her for the first time. She wasn't that defenseless child he climbed trees with; she was beautiful, and strong, and capable of bringing him to his knees if he was being honest.

He initiated the second kiss. The hand that toyed with her earring now grasped the back of her head, sinking his fingers into her hair as he pulled her mouth back to his roughly. Her hands snaked over his chest, pulling at buttons on his white dress shirt. He didn't even realize she was guiding him further into the safe house until her back hit the wall. He broke away from her mouth, kissing down her neck, to the crook of her shoulder and back. She sighed, pulling him tighter to her as teeth and tongues clashed maddeningly.

It was fire and fury and the tragedy of two decades lost all in one moment.

Kurt pulled back breathlessly, resting his forehead on hers and trying to gain some ground. It was painful to breathe. Jane was happy she was pressed to the wall—she would have sunk to the floor otherwise. There was nothing but the sound of them gasping for air, chests heaving, dizzy with emotion. Jane reached up, placing her hand over his wildly beating heart, and he followed suit, his palm covering her equally racing heart. The motion was theirs, a secret bond between them. Something so simple now meant so much.

"Sleep," he whispered, allowing her to guide him to the bedroom. He had no intention of taking advantage of her like this—not after a heavy dose of Sodium Pentothal and whatever else Carter had forced into her system. She seemed to read his thoughts, not bothering to change as she pulled the covers over them.

"You'll be here in the morning, right?" She'd asked timidly, scared of his answer. He twined their hands together between them.

"Of course. Sleep, Jane. I won't leave you."

Now in the early morning hours, Kurt was unsure of where they were going. Would she regret everything that had been said last night? Would she think it best if they just pretended this never happened? He sighed, tracing the intricate painted patterns on her hand.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he missed that she'd woken. Her green eyes anxiously searched his face.

"You're thinking too hard," Jane said softly, squeezing his hand. "Did you sleep at all?"

Kurt tensed. "I didn't realize you were awake."

"I know," She shrugged with a quirk of her lip, watching him as he continued to outline the designs on her hand. "I hate them."

He glanced up, confused. "What?"

"The tattoos. I don't want them. People look at me like…like I'm some freak, and I hate that," she gasped, trying not to cry.

"You're not the only person in the world covered in tattoos, you know?" Kurt said, pointing out the obvious. "Pretty sure half of New York _is_ tattoos."

She shook her head. "I know that…but they _chose_ them. I didn't have a choice. I don't…I don't like what I see in the mirror—and maybe that's vain or stupid given the circumstances but I just want to look…normal."

"Is that why you chose this dress?" he asked, tugging on one of her sleeves. "Why you had Patterson cover up what she could?"

Jane nodded, one of the tears she'd felt earlier fell traitorously down her cheek.

"I like them," he began, his fingertips tracing the black bird that resided on her neck, watching as goosebumps rose on her skin at his touch. "These, all of them, brought you to me. I wouldn't change anything about you, Jane. So, let people stare. They'll never understand how important you are, to more than just the FBI."

She only nodded. The overwhelming feeling of her heart being squeezed and the knot in her throat wouldn't allow her to speak. He tipped her chin up, allowing him to meet her watery gaze. "You're beautiful to me, Jane."

Maybe that's all she needed to know. That the person closest to her—whether through some twist of fate or circumstance—didn't see her as anything other than a person.

"Thank you," she managed to say. Kurt trailed his hand from the bird on her neck to between her shoulder blades, where his name was written boldly across her skin, pulling her close. Jane settled into the embrace, feeling warm and…wanted.

Kurt gently kissed her forehead before resting his chin on her hair, finally able to close his eyes.

They'd talk about everything later.

For now, all they wanted was a little time to revel in the quiet of the morning.


End file.
